


If Only in My Dreams

by ProsperDemeter



Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [6]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers team dynamic, Christmas, Established Relationship, Found Family, I can't tag if my life depended on it, I fuse so many canons together yikes, Idk what i'm doing, M/M, Tony Stark gives good holiday presents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27941750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter
Summary: “Okay,” Phil said once May had been distracted by Daisy and the others to play a game of darts. “What’s going on?”“I don’t know.” Clint admitted after a moment of pondering the question. “Something just doesn’t feel right.”Phil frowned. Not the frown that told Clint he did anything wrong, but the frown of someone that had worked with him for years. Phil trusted Clint’s gut more than he trusted most facts. “Danger or…?”“Just off.”Because nothing felt bad. It just felt… odd.
Relationships: Barney Barton & Clint Barton, Clint Barton & Avengers Team, Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: 20 Days of Holiday Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2035498
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	If Only in My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Day six! 
> 
> Idk what this is, friends. I hope you enjoy!

Christmas was something a little different in the Barton household. Or, rather, something never celebrated. Clint had never had one, save for whatever small celebration Carson threw during the holidays. But even then it was a catch all sort of thing. They would  _ maybe _ exchange gifts,  _ always _ eat their weight in cookies, and then be right back to work by that evening to put on a show for the families that had made the circus  _ they’re _ annual tradition. 

It was fine by him, anyway. Most of his Christmas memories from his youngest years were painted red with  _ danger _ and glazed over with the few things Clint could remember hearing - yelling, screaming, hate. And as he got older the holiday ceased being anything special. He was on the road a lot, taking odd jobs here and there and never settled down enough to have anyone to celebrate it. So the day was more of an inconvenience than a holiday. It shut entire countries and communities down and made his job  _ that much  _ more difficult. 

It was always hell to kill someone on a family holiday. 

But then Shield happened, and Natasha happened, and now  _ Phil _ happened and Clint had actually settled down enough to even think of celebrating. Not that Phil or Natasha ever made him celebrate. Natasha had her own bad memories of the day and Phil’s family celebrated Hanukkah instead, anyway. 

The team, though. 

_ They _ were the problem. 

Namely, Stark. And even Thor! The Asgardian had apparently grown fond of the Earthling holiday and loved most things about it. Steve didn’t bother much with it himself, he was from an entirely different time and the way Christmas was celebrated in the twenty first century was entirely different from the way he had always done it in the past. The commercialism of the day very noticeably set him on edge. Clint would know - if he had to listen to him rant about it for one more minute he may freeze the man again. 

But, mostly, the annoying problem of “ _ what do you mean you don’t care about Christmas, Barton!” _ was circling around one Anthony Edward Stark. It was annoying because typically Clint  _ liked _ Tony the most of his new teammates. They both used humor to cope with bad situations, they both had childhoods they didn’t want to talk about, and they both had specific skillsets that others seemed to ignore. For Stark it was that he was  _ actually _ the smartest person on the planet. For Clint it was that he was more than a weapon. 

Christmas, though. 

Christmas might actually be the thing that made Clint quit the team. 

Not that Natasha or Phil would actually  _ let  _ him quit the team but he was seriously considering it. 

Clint knew how to hide where people couldn’t find him if he really needed to. And what Director Fury didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. He was pretty sure he could talk Banner into helping him hide out if he needed to. 

“He’s not going to leave you alone.” Natasha said for what had to be the millionth time since arriving in his room. She was sprawled out on her back, red hair like a halo around her head and Lucky passed out on her chest like the attention whore the one-eyed dog was. Clint popped a hip against the doorframe, tried to carry two steaming mugs of Natasha’s favorite tea over to her, and nearly tripped over his own haphazardly placed slippers in the process. The apartment he shared with Phil wasn’t  _ mess _ y, per say, but it wasn’t clean either. While it was true that Phil was the perpetually clean one of the two of them, Clint didn’t exactly have a lot of  _ stuff _ to keep clean. Lucky had more things than him. And Kate. Kate had more things in  _ his _ apartment than Clint did. 

He was smart enough to know it was the fault of his life up until Phil had shown up in his life. Clint had never had what was considered a stable stream of income, home life, or, really, anything until Phil shot him, Shield recruited him, and Natasha adopted him as her pocket best friend. If he were being honest with at least Natasha (because she would  _ know _ if he were lying and Clint was terrible at being honest with himself) than he would have to admit that the thought of even staying in one apartment for five years was causing him an unexplainable  _ itch _ that begged him to pack all of his things and leave. He always had a go bag ready to go, always had at least three different identities ready to be taken and used, and always had an escape plan if need be. 

The thing was the dog. 

Clint wasn’t about to just up and leave Lucky. 

Or Phil. 

Or Kate. 

The team was debatable at the moment, but usually they worked to keep him tethered. 

And Natasha… well she would find him no matter where he tried to escape to. 

She sat up smoothly to take the mug from his hands, Lucky’s tail started to slap against the fabric of his bed set - he had a  _ comforter  _ and  _ matching pillows _ , he was domesticated - when his one good eye registered his favorite owner. His fur was soft, freshly cleaned, when Clint ran his hand down his nose to scratch at his chin. He dropped a kiss to the dog’s forehead and balanced his own mug on his knee. “Why does it have to be that big of deal?” He asked Natasha and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. 

She hummed and sipped at the tea, even though, to Clint, it was still scalding. 

That woman never ceased to amaze him. “I think this is the closest thing that Stark’s ever had to a family.” 

And didn’t  _ that _ hit differently. It was definitely something Clint had already known about the man - if Tony saw you as someone he actually liked he would do whatever he could to make you happy - but didn’t exactly want to admit to himself. The Shield psychologists said it had to do with Clint’s special brand of abandonment issues. Laying down roots meant it was that much harder to leave. And Clint had accepted Natasha, Phil, Lucky, and, begrudgingly, Kate. But the team was something different entirely. A  _ team _ meant there was a group of people that  _ depended _ on Clint to have their backs at all times. 

He had done the whole Shield thing for a long time at that point - almost ten years - and he had even gotten  _ married _ and owned the damn apartment building he lived in but… a team felt like so much more of a commitment than any of those other things. It made his stomach swirl. 

“We’re not family.” Clint argued pathetically. 

Natasha’s look said more than her words would be able to. “Just tell him you want some coffee or something and he’ll stop bothering you.” 

“We don’t even celebrate Christmas.” Lucky, the perceptive dog that he was, placed his head in Clint’s lap and blinked his one eye at him until Clint pet him again. “Phil’s Jewish.” 

“Why not celebrate this year?” Natasha said after a moment. “Kate always brings you a present.” 

Which was true. Kate  _ did _ always bring him and Phil a present - typically, Clint even got some from Phil’s team, the year before Daisy had given him an old snapshot from his circus days (he didn’t even know  _ how _ she had gotten it) - and Clint always gave her a terribly wrapped one of his own. “Why does it have to be a…  _ thing _ ?” Clint mumbled. 

Natasha shrugged and knocked her shoulder against his comfortably. “I’ll do it if you do it.” 

She was just as freaked about the  _ family _ celebration thing as Clint was. The two of them with their backgrounds had never  _ needed _ to do such a thing. “There’s going to be so many people.” Because Stark would invite  _ everyone _ . It would be the original team, and the branch off, and that  _ kid _ that Tony had basically adopted, and Phil’s team, and the Shield agents Stark liked, and… it was so many more people than Clint or Natasha surrounded themselves with on a good day. 

Natasha snorted. “Together?” 

“Never alone.” 

They clinked glasses like the fake classy secret agents in fluffy matching pajama pants that they were and settled in to watch the rest of their Golden Girls binge. 

* * *

Clint was right. 

Christmas at the tower was  _ packed _ . 

He stood on the outskirts for most of it and talked to Melinda May about how things were going in the field with Phil by his side - a comforting weight of his hand on the small of his back and his musky cologne filling Clint’s senses with safety like nothing before ever did. He was in a suit and Clint  _ hated _ suits more than anything in the world. They were stiff, uncomfortable, and impeded his range. And he couldn’t wear his glasses in a suit. Phil had them tucked in his inside pocket - because Clint would inevitably break them if he had them in his  _ own _ \- and Kate had picked out a purple shirt for him to wear instead as a consolation. 

But the party was packed, it was much too loud even with his hearing aids turned down, and the outskirts gave him the best vantage point of the guests that had come. Stark was actually  _ listening _ to his favorite spider-kid talk a mile a minute, a smile that had never wavered from his face still there and the kid’s aunt (because Clint paid attention - he even knew the kid’s name and, also, that he was only a year younger than Kate but  _ really _ he had a baby face) standing beside him. Steve was with his old best friend with the long, shaggy hair that had been tied into a tight bun behind his head and Sam by the billiards table. They weren’t playing, but it was far enough away from the loud crowd that the soldiers could have some peace without being absent. Natasha was at the bar, leaning on her elbows in her fancy dress and holding a conversation with Banner and Thor about something Clint was sure he didn’t want to know. And Phil’s team was mingling with the other agents. 

It was going fine. 

Except Clint felt like it wasn’t going fine. 

“Okay,” Phil said once May had been distracted by Daisy and the others to play a game of darts. “What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know.” Clint admitted after a moment of pondering the question. “Something just doesn’t feel right.” 

Phil frowned. Not the frown that told Clint he did anything wrong, but the frown of someone that had worked with him for years. Phil trusted Clint’s gut more than he trusted most facts. “Danger or…?” 

“Just off.” 

Because nothing felt  _ bad _ . It just felt… odd. 

It reminded Clint of when he would be on a mission or opp or even an outing and Barney would appear in the background. Sometimes for good and sometimes for bad. 

But Barney hadn’t shown up since Clint had gone public as Hawkeye. 

He didn’t blame his brother for that and the two of them had always had a contentious relationship. But still… it would have been nice to hear from him every now and then. It would be nice if Barney knew he was married, had a dog, owned an apartment building, had friends and laid down roots. He would have liked Barney to meet Kate, maybe, and possibly to have a conversation with Phil. 

Then again, it was best that Clint’s past and his present never met. He didn’t exactly have the most normal upbringing and Barney would only do what Barney always did - show up, mess up, and then leave Clint to clean it up. 

It felt dumb to hope for something different. 

He scanned the room again, nothing was amiss. 

He, instead, let Phil drag him into the crowd, let Phil’s team goad him into their darts game (and he won every single time and, if Clint even dared feel bad about it Phil would only kiss the corner of his mouth with a “that’s my husband” said in pride to his team), let Natasha get him behind the bar so they could work as bartenders together and let Steve and his friends get the two of them telling stories of their more hilarious operations. Steve and Bucky responded in kind and even if it annoyed Stark that they were reminiscing about the “good old days” he did nothing more than softly roll his eyes and toss an arm around the kid’s shoulders as he listened. 

It wasn’t a  _ bad _ day. 

But everything… well it still felt off. 

And he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

Everything was normal, everything was good and, dare he say it,  _ fun. _ Nothing was off or weird or odd (aside from the kid on the roof but that was apparently just his normal and entertained Thor to no end). 

And  _ that _ was when he saw him. 

He was down below, on the sidewalk, with a face that was older but never changed. He was looking up with Clint looking down, raised a hand to his forehead with a brown paper bag in hand and toasted to the sky. 

Barney.

It wasn’t with conscious thought that Clint ran down the stairs - because it was faster than the elevator even if Stark was a genius - and down to where Barney had been standing. It was like a tether he didn’t know he still had - where Barney went Clint went too. He didn’t exist without his brother for the longest time - if Barney hadn’t taken him by the wrist and whisked him away to Carson’s when he did Clint would probably be dead. And so would Barney. Barney used to make sure Clint had food before eating his own, he would fight for Clint in the only ways he knew how and Clint  _ knew _ Barney had started to resent him for that very reason. 

But he had still loved him. He had still done the best that he could do with the limited resources they had. 

He spun on his heel, but couldn’t see him anywhere. “Barney?” He called uselessly even as his phone vibrated in his pocket - Phil most likely, or maybe even Natasha, or possibly Tony after he noticed that Clint was missing from the party. Downtrodden although he couldn’t put a finger on why, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started to make his way back inside. 

“The magnificent Hawkeye.” His brother was leaning against the outside of Stark Tower, a smirk on his face and green eyes looking Clint over from head to toe. “At a  _ Christmas _ party? I thought you didn’t do Christmas.” 

Barney looked older, his face had more lines in it now and his hair was shaggier with a hint of grey at its roots. He still spoke slowly, still had his accent, still stood under the light where Clint could see his mouth to make out his words. The last time Clint had seen him he hadn’t had the hearing aids. “Barn.” Clint cleared his throat at the way his voice broke. “What… what are you doing here?” 

“What?” Barney teased with a twinge of heat. “I can’t see my baby brother on Christmas?” 

“Barney…” Clint didn’t want to say it. Barney never bothered to show up unless there was something that he needed. 

And Clint would give it to him. Whatever he asked. He owed Barney his life and he would make sure his brother was taken care of no matter what but…. Barney waved away his unasked question and opened his arms up for a hug. “Can’t I just want to say hello, Clint?” He didn’t  _ mean _ to fall into the hug, but he did it regardless, his hands fisting into the back of Barney’s shirt - cheap cotton against Clint’s silk suit - and held on as tight as he would have as a child. 

He hadn’t realized exactly how much he had missed Barney until he was seeing him again. “How are you?” Clint said after a moment, eyes suspiciously wet, and Barney’s hands lingering on his shoulders. 

“I’m good, Clint. I’m good.” Barney’s hand brushed his hair behind his ear. “Those are fancy,” He pointed to Clint’s aids, stuffed in deep and nearly invisible. 

“Yeah… Tony, uh… Stark made them.” 

“And uh…” He pointed, then, to the ring on Clint’s finger. “You’re married?” 

“Yeah.” Clint rubbed at the back of his neck. “You… you want to meet him?” He gestured helplessly to the door of the Tower. 

“Him?” 

“Yeah… is… is that a problem?” 

“Are you happy?” 

“He makes me happy.” 

“Then it’s not a problem.” Barney shrugged with an easy smile. “Later. I have something I need to do tonight.” 

Clint’s stomach dropped again and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. “You’re… you’ll… soon?” 

“Soon.” Barney agreed. “I’ll call you.” 

“You don’t have my number.” 

Barney winked. “Merry Christmas, baby brother.” 

“Merry Christmas, Barney.” 

* * *

The party found him behind the bar again, this time Phil beside him and Natasha with Steve’s pal Bucky on the dance floor. Smiling. Laughing. There was a history there, between the two of them, that Natasha hadn’t deemed necessary to share with the rest of the team yet. But Clint knew. He always knew about the things that others didn’t. “You good, Hawk?” Daisy asked lightly over the rim of her water. 

Clint shrugged, he could feel the beginnings of a headache bursting at the top of his forehead, and Phil had insisted Clint take off his coat and roll up his sleeves. He had exactly eleven criss cross scars on his draw arm from snapped bow strings, and exactly thirteen from other weapons. “Just tired.” 

“This is what it’s for, right?” Tony said, stepping behind the bar himself, but leaning his back against the bartop and glancing at Clint from the corner of his eye. 

“What?” He asked despite himself, a rag in hand and Phil’s arms sliding comfortably around his waist from behind. Typically, the two of them weren’t tactile people - they weren’t ones for physical displays of affection, but Phil trusted the people they were around and Clint, when rattled, needed a physical touch to keep him tethered to the moment. 

“Christmas. Holidays.” Tony waved a careless hand, although his words were anything but. “Family. It’s all about family, yeah?” 

“Family.” It clicked. 

Clint didn’t need things spelled out for him. Not something that obvious. “Tony,” He said to the other man, just as the spider-kid came up to beg a soda off of them with his boyish smile. He looked a bit like Stark. Tony raised an eyebrow at him. “Thanks.” 

He nodded, although it was without words. 

Message received. 


End file.
